Lincoln lingered outside the bathroom door much longer than he should have.

But damn.

Sam in nothing but underwear did things to him he should most definitely quash. Now.

He made himself busy making coffee for Sam in the kitchen. He wasn't sure if Sam would be up for eating or not, though he didn't look too green around the gills.

He brought out the mix for the pancake batter out of the cabinet and prepared to go over the directions, when his cell rang with Monroe's specific ringtone.

"About time," he muttered into the phone.

Monroe chuckled. "Yeah sorry. Traffic's pretty snarled. Especially out of Mammoth. Decided to give you a call instead. It's raining. Was pouring cats and dogs but it's calmed down some. I'm at that bakery in Bishop. The famous one. Damn, it's crowded even with the rain."

"At least you made it out. We're stuck."

"What? You and Sam?"

"Uh-huh. Winston barely made it out before they were calling it. Ellen contacted me, told me roads were closed, and to just stay here."

"That's nuts. You got enough stuff?"

"Yeah, you know we went a little crazy with the food. Anyhow, Sam's in the shower, so I'm making some pancakes."

"Trying to take care of Sam still, huh?"

"Monroe."

His brother laughed. "I know, I know. Look it's almost my turn at the register and I want to get this bread and be on the road. I'll call you when I get home. And don't do anything I wouldn't."

"There's nothing you won't do."

"I know." Even though he couldn't see his brother, Lincoln imagined Monroe wore a big old grin. "Bye, bro. Talk soon."

Lincoln shook his head and disconnected, setting his phone aside.

By the time Sam emerged dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, rubbing a towel through his dark blond hair, Lincoln had already finished grilling about a dozen pancakes. There was a renewed twinkle in Sam's blue eyes. It was probably unfair for someone to look that good after being that smashed the night before.

"Hmm. Great. I'm hungry," Sam announced, with a grin that likely set his fans hearts aflutter. Not Lincoln's, of course.

"Have a seat there then at the table and I'll bring over your coffee and breakfast. Well, brunch for you."

Sam dutifully shifted to the table and Lincoln noted he wore no shoes. Or socks.

"Aren't your feet cold?"

Sam shrugged. "Not yet. If they get that way, I'll put something on." His gaze strayed to the window looking out over the parking lot of the complex. "Wow, the snow is really coming down. How long has it been like that?"

"A few hours. Started with just a few flakes as my brother was leaving and has gotten worse by the hour. Ellen contacted me just after Winston left and told me to go ahead and stay. Roads are all closed anyway. No word on when they'll reopen."

Sam smiled a little as Lincoln brought over his coffee, filled to the brim with cream, just like Sam liked it. "Storm of the century, huh? Thanks."

"You're welcome. Yep, seems like quite the blizzard. For here anyway. Can't say how it compares to some place back east."

"Generally I stay to the tropics. Not a fan of cold."

"Why'd you agree to come on this weekend then?" Lincoln asked curiously.

"Basically, I could drive here, and anyway, I wanted to see everybody. It's been a long time." He gestured to the snow. "Admittedly, I didn't expect this."

"None of us did. Except maybe Winston. Guess we should have made more attention to the news. Butter and syrup?"

"Please."

Lincoln brought everything over to the table, including a plate for himself, and that sat on the chair across from Sam.

"Sorry about this." Sam had picked up a knife which he used to slather an obscene amount of butter on his pancakes. "You're stuck here because of me, aren't you?"

Lincoln shrugged.

"Come on. If you weren't waiting for me to get my ass out of bed, you would have been on the road with everyone else, beating the storm."

"Well, yeah, but I really don't mind."